8. Drifting into Dangerous Waters

8. Drifting into Dangerous Waters

Hakan awoke slowly, drifting gently into consciousness. The first thing he knew was that he was warm and extremely happy. A cosy sense of peace and well-being clung to him, perhaps from a dream. He took a deep breath, snuggling deeper into the welcoming, solid mattress.

Only to freeze. It wasn't a mattress. No mattress he'd ever encountered smelled of warm male and sour rum, and had its own heartbeat. Heart thumping, he raised his head enough to find himself ensconced in Captain's embrace, sprawled across the other man's chest.

Captain was deep asleep, lips pursed in a kissable moue, the lines of his face slack in repose. Hakan bit back a curse and tried to extricate himself without waking his bedmate. Even with his experience of hammocks, it wasn't an easy endeavour.

A wave slapped loudly against the side of the chebec and Hakan forgot everything else, levering bolt upright.

They were drifting!

"Shit!" He almost fell out of the hammock, elbowing Captain somewhere soft as he went, head snapping side to side as he took in their position. His pulse continued to surge when he found no land visible. Crescent Island was out of sight, and the tides... He tried to think where they were liable to end given the tides and the prevailing winds.

"Where's your spyglass?" He spun to where Captain was now sitting in the hammock, legs dangling over the side, head in his hands, groaning softly. No answer was forthcoming. "A spyglass?" he repeated, slightly louder. He wanted to shake his crewmate, but he had enough awareness that that would be needlessly unkind, and their situation wasn't going to deteriorate materially in the space of a minute.

Captain mumbled something that didn't sound like, Yes or, Here it is. A hand lifted from his head – leaving crazy-mussed hair in its wake – to make a dismissive gesture.

"You don't have a spyglass?" Incredulity spun his anxiety higher. "How can you sail a boat without a spyglass?!" Silence met that complaint. Hakan huffed, glancing around the horizon as though land might hove into view in response to his desire for it. "I didn't realise I should have checked the inventory before I got on board."

Captain surged to standing, staggered, grabbed at the deckrail and glared. "I do apologise if the boat you tried to steal doesn't offer your every convenience!"

"A spyglass isn't a convenience, it's as vital as the damned rudder or the mast!" Hakan exploded. He was overstating the matter, he knew that. It wasn't as though they were in the middle of the open ocean at risk of shipwreck or starvation. Thanks to Osman they had provisions. Worst case scenario, he'd be able to map where they were when night fell – assuming a clear night with stars visible. "Or are you trying to tell me you can sense land the same way you can tell compass directions in the dark?" He was being foul-tempered, he knew it. He was even glad Captain didn't reply to his sniping.

Captain staggered as far as the mast, clinging to it with a groan. The man looked like whey, but Hakan's sympathy was limited until their current situation was resolved. "Get a drink," he snapped.

Captain glared. "Last thing I need is a drink," he mumbled.

"Of freshwater, not rum!" Hakan snapped. "It'll help clear your head."

Captain muttered something, but staggered back to the shelter and poured a cup from the freshwater barrel. He stood, shook his head, staggered to the side of the boat and leaned alarmingly far over. Hakan thought he might vomit, but he simply dunked his head into the waves. Hakan was about to go after him when he sat back on his knees, scraping his hair off his forehead so water streamed over his shoulders.

Hakan was pleasantly distracted from their plight for a mouth-drying moment.

"That's better." Captain climbed back to his feet. He had a healthier colour and was steadier as he walked past Hakan, checking the tiller and raising the sail.

"Do you know where we are?" Hakan demanded. Maybe Captain really could see further than him.

"No, but if we head roughly South-East we'll hit Gabalnu's coast."

Hakan found Captain's quiet control more irritating than his grumpy hangover had been. "This is your fault. If you hadn't clung to me like an octopus I'd have got us on a proper heading at midnight. We could be hours off-course."

"My fault? You were the sober one. I was drugged – much against my will."

"No one forced you to drink."

"You might have warned me how strong it was."

"It's rum. Goes without saying," Hakan snapped. "And as I recall Osman did warn you." Captain wasn't a child. He remembered his thought that the man made a charming drunk. He was making up for that now.

"If I was out of commission, you should have taken control of the boat," Captain snapped.

"I might have done, if you'd let me move." It was a feeble excuse and Hakan knew it. He wasn't even surprised when Captain's lip curled.

"You couldn't fight off a sleeping, drunk man?" His gaze raked Hakan disparagingly, a gesture that made him feel hot for all the wrong reasons. "Some pirate," he scoffed.

Hakan's skin burned. He took a step into Captain's space, squaring his shoulders to make up for the fact he had to lift his chin to meet the taller man's eyes. "I thought we were crewmates, working together to reach Sixblades. I can act like a pirate if you'd prefer. I don't have to be so considerate."

"Considerate?" Captain's voice rose in pitch. He gestured. "It's consideration that's left us drifting, is it?" He stepped closer, too, glowering over Hakan. "Something that you're worried about more than I."

"If you're not worried, maybe you're just too foolish to understand the risk, stupid landlubber."

Captain made a growling noise deep in his throat that sent a jolt of awareness through Hakan. "I know the sea better than you could ever hope to do."

Hakan balled his fists and set them on his hips so they wouldn't reach without his consent and grab Captain. "Fine words for a man who doesn't even know where we are!"

Captain jabbed a finger towards where he'd looped the tiller to keep them on a South-Easterly course. "At least I took steps to correct the error and didn't just stand around bleating about it!" he fired back.

"I don't bleat!" Hakan replied indignantly. He might have said more, but he was suddenly, irredeemably aware of how close they were. He could feel the heat radiating from Captain's broad chest. His lips were so close, if Hakan simply boosted onto his toes he could kiss them. A sudden hunger to discover what Captain tasted like swept through him. He wondered whether the attempt would net him another of the Captain's killer punches. Then, he wondered whether the prize might be worth the price.

Then –

An impatient sound rang in the air, barely registered before Captain's fist closed in his shirt, hauling him close as the other man's lips descended on his.

~

Ramorran's blood roared in his ears as he pressed his lips to Hakan's. The other man's chest was warm against his knuckles. He tasted of salt and sunshine. This was the worst idea Ramorran had had ... since the last time.

But he couldn't pull away. Stopping was an impossibility. Desire was a spring tide, drowning him, and he'd never been happier to fall into oblivion. Hakan's mouth opened to his, hot and urgent. Ramorran's back thudded against the mast before he realised he'd moved, Hakan growling and wrenching away from his mouth.

Ramorran didn't have time to regret the loss before Hakan pressed against him, chest, belly, thighs. He gasped as Hakan's mouth shifted to his neck, sucking biting kisses against his flesh. "I've wanted to do this from the first moment I saw you," Hakan told him before kissing him once more, cutting off any reply Ramorran could have made. He didn't have a reply. Every word he'd ever learned had long since swum away.

This was stupid, and careless, and he was sure to regret it later, but he wanted it more than he'd ever wanted anything. While they kissed his hands strayed to Hakan's waistband, wrenching his shirt from his pants. The man's skin was warm. He felt bumps that he knew were scars and wondered at the man he must have been when that happened, when someone had dared to lay stripes across his flesh. He grabbed Hakan's ass, pulling him closer still, a strange, wild possession taking hold of him. No one should set hands on this man for good or ill. No one save him.

He framed Hakan's face in his hands, fingers digging into his beard. Hakan made a happy sound low in his throat. Lust flowed through Ramorran. Every caress seemed connected directly to his loins, his cock hard and aching.

Hakan perhaps sensed it, or he simply felt the same way himself. He rolled his hips, pressing their clothed cocks against each other.

"Yes!" Ramorran hissed. He released Hakan's face and slid his hands back down the other man's body, delving beneath his waistband. When he tried to take hold of Hakan's cock, the pirate pressed their loins harder together so he couldn't. He grunted his displeasure, trying to twist to give himself room.

Hakan broke their kiss, panting against Ramorran's shoulder. "I want to take my time with you," he said. His tone was half-lust, half-regret.

And that was the opposite of what Ramorran wanted. Time would give him chance to come to his senses and see what a mistake it would be to fall further under Hakan's spell. "No. Now." Both hands on Hakan's ass, he rolled his hips, biting his lips although a groan still escaped. It felt too good. "I want you now."

Hakan groaned against his neck. "You'll be the death of me," he murmured. Then one hand gripped Ramorran's knee, holding him in place. His hips jerked, mirroring Ramorran's movement, and Ramorran knew he'd won.

"I'll make sure dying feels better than living ever did," he promised, reaching for Hakan's waistband and unfastening the ties. He shifted and pushed Hakan's pants down to his knees. Hakan's erection was hot when he reached for it, the tip already leaking. Ramorran thumbed the moisture across the crown, revelling in Hakan's deep groan. Shifting once more, letting his head fall back against the mast as Hakan sucked kisses down his neck, he wrapped his fingers around the shaft and began to stroke. Hakan's skin was like warm velvet. Ramorran's head buzzed with desire and delight.

And then Hakan wrenched his breeches apart and the pirate's broad hand gripped his erection, stroking in counterpoint to his movements. A push and pull began, like waves rushing up a beach and retreating. Ramorran panted, stifling the sounds by pressing kisses to Hakan's neck.

"Wait, wait."

Ramorran didn't want to wait. Hakan grabbed his shirt and tugged, fighting him until Ramorran accepted it was easier to acquiesce. He let Hakan go only for the moment it took the pirate to wrench his shirt over his head, then he returned to his task, passion riding him hard as he stroked Hakan, fingertips brushing the man's balls and provoking a hiss of desire.

Hakan gripped him tightly but held still while he kissed down his chest, then paused to lave at his nipples. Ramorran knew he was mewing, the sounds coming from his mouth high-pitched and undignified.

He couldn't bring himself to care. It had been too long. Far too long.

He didn't think it had ever felt as good as this. Hakan seemed to know exactly where to touch him, when to kiss, or lick, or bite to stoke his pleasure higher and higher. "So good," he gasped. "Just there."

Hakan bit gently on his nipple and shock coursed through him. Sparks exploded at his groin. Hakan's hand tightened, his movements speeding up. Ramorran whimpered, his mouth falling open as he tipped his head to the sky, eyes closed and kissed by the sunlight. He groaned, stiffening as ecstasy gripped him, his spend spurting over Hakan's fingers.

He took a deep, shuddering breath and put his leg down before the muscle could cramp. "Your turn."

Before Hakan could move or even speak he turned them so the other man was leaning against the mast. He dropped to his knees, in part because he didn't think he had the strength to hold himself up, but mostly because... "I want to taste you," he muttered, swallowing down Hakan's cock almost as he spoke the words.

Hakan groaned, his hands settling on Ramorran's shoulders. Ramorran hollowed his cheeks while his fingers caressed Hakan's balls. He used every trick he knew, listening to Hakan's noises to guide him as he drove the other man steadily towards his release. He sucked hard, scraping his nails down the insides of Hakan's thighs and Hakan choked out a curse as he stiffened, his essence flooding Ramorran's mouth. He swallowed it down, tongue tracing the head until Hakan twitched with sensitivity and pulled away. "Enough."

Ramorran wiped his mouth and got to his feet, tucking himself away. Hakan's head was tipped back, his chest heaving, grin turned to the sky, seeming heedless of the fact that he was exposed to the air until Ramorran reached down and tugged his pants back up.

Hakan was still staring up into the blue as he took over the job of settling his clothes, breathing hard. He looked happy, sated, and attractively mussed.

Awkwardness settled over Ramorran. That had been ... sensational. But now they had to sail the rest of the way to Mosbahl, and he couldn't even say for sure how long a voyage that was going to be.

Most devastating of all – instead of being done with Hakan, he wanted more. He'd been fooling himself if he thought having sex would somehow get the man out of his system. He'd fallen in lust and couldn't seem to clamber out, only now it was going to be a problem looking Thief in the eye without remembering what they'd done.

Ramorran cursed himself. He'd known he'd regret it if he let his attraction for Hakan get out of control. He had, and now he did.

He was an idiot. He knew that. He just hated when he went out of his way to prove the fact to himself.